Saving Graces

When Clay sent him and Opie to Tacoma on a protection run a day after his talk with his mother, Jax knew immediately that the Tacoma charter would host them with all the beer and sex he could imagine. And as much as he wanted to get over Tara the "right way", whatever way that was, Jax was glad that the services from the Tacoma charter would be given anyway.

For three days, they spent their time in the strip bar. Black paint was starting to chip slightly as random tables were set up around the room, the leather couches surrounding the stage. Time was spent with Jax inhaling beer after beer while Opie made sure his brother didn't get himself into any situation in his drunken stupor.

With regret and odd angst, the giant man watched as Jax had taken a liking to a junkie stripper. Luscious was her stage name, but Wendy Case was her real one. All she really did was bitch, moan about her troubles and get down on her knees; something Jax was almost prone to attracting. He was a magnet for disastrous affairs. There was something though, that had put Opie off about Wendy, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.

Opie watched the two from across the room as he languorously took a drink of his beer, finishing it in two big gulps. With a quick wave of his hand, Opie called Logan, the bartender, to him. He asked for another beer and nodded towards Wendy. "Who is that gash?" he questioned. His gut told him something was amiss as he watched Wendy lead Jax to an empty back room, Jax following numbly with slow, dragging steps.

Logan looked up as he wiped the sticky counter top. Catching the familiar set of sky-high red stilettos, and messy blonde curls turn the corner to the dorms, he gave a snort. "Wendy? She's a croweater, bro." The answer was straightforward and painful to hear as Opie turned to face Logan. "She's nothing else but easy pussy and a crank-whore to boot. Easy lay, easy lay, easy lay."

Letting out a low whistle, Opie set down his drink and leaned against the newly cleaned surface. "Yeah? How long she been here?"

He received a half-hearted shrug as Logan reached down to open a beer bottle for himself. After a long pull and a grateful sigh, Logan set his own beer aside. "Not that long; traveled from Reno, riding bitch with Lief-y Green," he chortled. "Touched down in the Tacoma clubhouse two days ago, but when your boy showed up, Wendy clung to him like superglue. Lief didn't care—was happy to get rid of her in favor of Candy."

Opie snorted and cackled happily. "Shit, man. I don't even think Jax realizes that he's banging a crank-whore."

"Well," Logan grunted smugly. "Watch out for that one, man. That bitch is trouble. Capital T and all."

--

"I'm telling you," came the soft melodic call across the room. Jax followed his grumbling stomach and sniffing nose to the kitchen to find his girlfriend walking back and forth in his kitchen. She had the landline cradled between the blade of her right shoulder and ear, laughter reverberating around the tiled room. "Donna, Opie's gonna be excited! You've got nothing to worry about sweetie."

He leaned against the entrance, arms folded across his torso as he tilted his head. He took in her brown wavy locks tied into a messy bun atop her head, and the way his SAMCRO tee lifted itself just a tad bit higher when she tried to reach for the pepper that was placed on the highest shelf of the kitchen cabinet. He was definitely a leg-man. He watched with great mirth when her five foot one frame continued to struggle as she talked to his best friends' wife.

"I got it, Em," he said finally with a chuckle. Jax pushed himself off of the frame, a strong hand resting at the small of her back as he reached for the pepper for her. He pressed a kiss to her lips, handing her the condiment as she gave him a deeper, longer kiss in thanks.

"Morning baby," he huffed, slightly out of breath. His Old Lady giggled and pecked his lips again. Calloused hands moved, one to cradle one side of her face, the other moving to rest comfortably at her hip.

"Morning indeed," the brunette crooned softly, forgetting that her best friend was on the line. "Thank you, handsome."

--

Jax woke up with a small jolt of surprise. He heaved a sigh; another dream, another day, another time to simply want for nothing.

He wasn't paying attention too much; only that he stuck to one pussy, and a few bottles beer. Jax had his arm around the sleeping girl next to him, as he smoked a cigarette, lying back against the headboard of his dorm room.

He looked down at his chest, not feeling anything as he watched the steady breathing of the woman that occupied his bed for the past three days. Being with her wasn't anything special. Average in bed, average smarts; strippers as per usual. Jax let out a small groan of discomfort as he moved hiss shoulder.

Deciding to get up, he pushed the dead weight off of him, and reached for the jeans he left laying on the floor. In a rush, Jax packed his nonexistent belongings quietly, leaving the history of his nights' drunken debauchery behind as he shut the door.

When he stepped out of the dorms, he first took in the silence of the clubhouse. He saw Opie through the clear glass doors as he prepared his saddlebag for the ride home they would begin within the hour. He exited the dungy room and nodded to his brother, moving to sit on the cool leather of his Dyna after he finished strapping up his possessions.

"Hey," Jax huffed, pulling another cigarette out of his box. Opie nodded and tied the last of his belongings to his bag. "When do you wanna go?"

His best friend snorted a reply, "Whenever you feel sober enough to ride back."

Jax glowered at Opie jokingly and pushed his shoulder. "You asshole."

Opie chuckled and turned to face Jax, leaning against the seat of his own Harley. Arms crossed, Opie looked at Jax with critical eyes when he asked a loaded question. "You…you all right, brother?"

Jax shrugged, "Why wouldn't I be?"

With a deadpanned expression, Opie seemed to lean back further inspecting his friend. Jax, for the most part, looked weary. Weary in every sense of the word. He was sure his friend was forged with some kind of memory of Tara everywhere and every time, especially when he went looking for a solution at the bottom of a beer bottle, and inside some unsuspecting bitch.

His blonde hair was matted with sweat from the previous nights transgressions, the stench of stale beers and cigarettes clung to the threads of his clothes. His normally bright blue hues seemed to be darker with desperation and gloom.

Opie sighed inwardly and shook his head. He didn't know how to save his friend when he'd never seen him so unhappy before. He was beginning to wonder if his brother would ever survive this. Five years of endless alcohol and pussy was driving Jax into more trouble than anyone knew how to deal with.

"You know, man," Opie said tiredly, "I don't know."

Opie's reply was curt and not in the least bit confusing; Jax knew what his friend was trying to get to—the conversation he had with both Opie and Gemma constantly in his thoughts. Jax nodded though, ignoring Opie's disappointed stare. He swung his leg over the seat of his bike, trying to get comfortable as he strapped his helmet on, Opie doing the same. A quick nod passed between them as Jax pulled out first, Opie following closely behind.

--

"Oi, Ja-a-a-ckie boy-o! Ope! How was Tacoma, boys?!"

The young man grinned widely as he pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot, Chibs waving wildly from the row of Harley's at the front. Juice and Tig sat next to him, engaged in idle conversation about what superhero would be best to join the Sons of Anarchy.

"Oh, shut up!" Tig groaned, casually leaning against the railing next to the bikes. "Captain America is a little shit head, just like you." Juice snorted and crossed his own arms as he leaned on the railings next to Tigger.

"No way man, your Thor is the shit head; what, a fucking hammer? Cap don't need that shit—all power bro."

"Fuck yeah, a fucking hammer," Tig groused, glaring at the newest patch. "He can bust your damn head open!"

The returning Sons parked their motorcycles with practiced ease, engines shutting off with the fast turning of a key. "Seriously?" Opie laughed thunderously. "Superheroes? You're outlaws, not five year olds."

"Oh," Chibs groaned slinging a tattooed arm over Opie's shoulder while Jax moved to stand next to them. "That, my boy, is very questionable." The Scot moved to reach for Jax, pulling him under his arm, gripping the two men tightly under his wings. "Save me, boy-oh's. For the love of the good Graces, shoot these two morons while you're at it!"

Juice and Tig yelped angrily in indignation, although knowing their brother was only kidding. Opie and Jax laughed in return as the five moved to head back into the clubhouse.

As they all took occupancy near the bar, laughing and joking around as if nothing was wrong, Jax took a moment to himself. This family is all I have, he reminded himself, thinking back to his argument with Tara long ago. And I'm pushing this all away.

He nodded to himself in affirmation, before joining the arbitrary conversations.

He made a promise to himself as he laughed when Tig reached over to slap Juice upside the head; no more of that—no more pushing his family away.

--

Three weeks after the run found one Jackson Teller under the hood of a beautiful 1967 Impala, doing routine maintenance. Grease and oils from the car clung to what used to be a clean white shirt, and his mechanic jumpsuit. He didn't know who the owner was, but he knew definitely that they took very good care of this beauty. He closed the hood once he was done tuning its engine and quickly wiped his hands on the rag attached to one of the belt loops of his suit.

Moving to open the driver's-side door, Jax leaned forward and turned the key in its starter. He grinned widely as the engine roared to life, purring loudly and beautifully in thanks. Slowly, he backed out of the car, and crossed his arms over his chest proudly. "Listen to her sing," he smiled, patting the roof of the black car with glee.

Gemma leaned against the doorframe, smiling slightly as she watched her son fix the Impala. She was glad to see him smiling again, happy with the familiarity of not seeing a frown, but a smile on his face, made her happy.

"The owner is gonna be here soon, Jax. Wrap it up. Besides, we got Church in an hour!" she heard Clay call out from the garage. Jax's head snapped up, the strict order not falling on deaf ears. He quickly moved to park the car in the garage for the finished fixes before neatly putting away his tools.

With a calm around him, he waved a good-bye to Clay and the rest of the men on garage duty as he walked back to his dorm room, shrugging off the dirty ensemble on the way away. He rushed up to his room, ripping off his shirt and chucking his jeans into the corner.

When he made his way to the bathroom ready to clean the dirt and grime from the day off of him, he heard a knock at the door. Just as quickly, the knock turned into the door bursting open.

He turned, dropping the fresh linen towel he reached for onto the floor in surprise. Wide blue eyes met brown hued tones in surprise and ire when he realized who stood in front of him.

"Sack, you little shit," he growled. Half-Sack swallowed the pool of saliva that gathered at his throat.

"Oh, shit," the prospect whispered in slight fear. Quickly turning around, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Jax growled and decided to jump into the shower anyway, the water heating up nicely. He left the door to the bathroom opened slightly.

"What is it?" he grunted, letting the water sooth his tired muscles from the days work.

"I—uh—oh-ho, shit," Half-Sack stuttered. At Jax's impatient yell to hurry up, Half-Sack scrambled to get his bearings together. "Church was pushed up to now. Something came up!"

With a loud groan in annoyance, Jax speedily rinsed off the rest of the soap from his tight-muscled frame. In less than five minutes, he toweled off the stray beads of water, slipping on his clothes and leather cut. He toed on his sneakers after hastily slipping on a clean pair of socks before he scrambled out of the room, intent on making it to the meeting. A typical swagger followed his every move into the chapel, greeting brothers with a charming grin, as he took his seat at Clay's left.

"So, what the hell happened?" he asked, getting to the point as he lit up a cigarette.

Clay grunted. "Damn Mayan's, that's what fucking happened. Stole the Niner's purchase, the rest of our stock, then blew up our goddamned warehouse and Tig's tacos!"

Piney rolled his eyes and Bobby let out a small giggle while the rest of his brothers looked on curiously at Tig.

"Tacos?" Opie asked as a grin spread across his face. He had a feeling he knew what Clay meant. Bobby chortled.

"This fucker couldn't help it and stuck his damn dick into the illegal Latin pussy we had working at the warehouse," Clay glowered. The men nodded expectantly at Tigger's expense before Jax groaned in frustration.

"Your DNA is in the fucking system, bro! What the fuck were you thinking?!" Jax freaked. "They find those bodies, you're done. They place us at that factory. SAMCRO is done!"

At his age, Tig wasn't taking a liking to Jax's berating and slammed his fist on the table, suddenly feeling like he was five again, getting caught for stealing cookies from the cookie jar. He couldn't help himself though, as he gave Jax a sour grin, "I was thinking that my dick couldn't wait to get wet. Fresh from the boarder, man." Tig cackled softly at Jax's annoyed expression. Yeah, he really didn't want the club to be in deep shit, but it was already done. Not much he could do at that point. All he could do was try to get them out of whatever mess they were in.

When Clay gave him a pointed stare, Tig relented. "Fine; I didn't know that those damn wetbacks would fuck up our deal, bro. I've got Trammel helping with the disposal right now. Gonna head up there to help burn the bodies."

Nods of approval went around the room and Clay's voice echoed throughout the room. "Whatever your dick decides to do, it better clean up this fucking mess first. Get rid of the spicy tacos now. I'm gonna try do some damage control." The gavel pounded, and Jax stubbed out his cigarette. Murmurs of all the possibilities were discussed as Clay moved to pull Jax aside.

When he opened his mouth to speak, the generic ringtone of a pre-pay went off. Clay saw it was his and answered it, his angry expression turning to a furious one. A grumble from his throat ended the call as the phone clapped shut.

Heatedly, SAMCRO's President threw the temporary phone onto the floor, flexing his arthritic hands when he exerted too much power. Clay ran a hand through his grayed hair and with a toss of his head to the left, Jax followed his stepfather out the door.

Tig yelped in surprise when Clay slapped him hard on the back of his neck. Tightly, he pulled Tigger with him as they left the clubhouse. A loud whistle called the attention of all members as they trained their eyes on the President.

"Party's over. We've got thirty minutes to get rid of those bodies. Looks like we've got Hale smelling up our asses too."

They all rushed to their bikes, Tig swearing constantly as he readily put on his helmet. He peeled out of the lot, suddenly feeling a whole lot more guilty and worried about the club than he was earlier. Bobby and Chibs shared a look of worry and concern as they revved their engines.

"Hey Clay!" Bobby roared over the motorcycles as the brothers began leaving. "Did Trammel get the bodies out at least?"

Clay frowned, and shook his head. "Man was able to catch the order to head out to the scene when he turned on his extra radio tuned into San Joaquin." When he turned the handle on his Harley, his baby sang. "Thirty minutes, brother. Thirty minutes."

--

"Crap," Gemma drawled with narrowed eyes seeing her men leave in haste. "What the hell is going on?" She could only wait with angst as she took a seat in the office chair.

Idle hands fixed the already neat desk before fixing them again, finding another way to file the already organized papers. It was only five minutes of anxious waiting when a knock sounded on the office door. She looked up to see a short, petite woman smiling brightly at her.

Gemma's quick beating heart calmed slightly when she saw the familiar face. "Hi, Em," she grinned.

--

With a groan, Jax ran a hand through his matted hair. "Took a shower for nothing," he frowned tiredly. He watched from his perch on his Dyna next to Opie as the rest of the brothers surveyed the area, Tig and Chibs carrying the burnt carcasses far out into the forest where the prospect had dug a grave for both of the women.

Opie watched his brother from the corner of his eyes and scratched at his beard absent-mindedly. "So," Opie started when he and Jax moved to watch for Hale and his henchmen. "You enjoy Tacoma?"

Jax let out a snort and lit up, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "What do you think? Booze and pussy," Jax laughed without humor. "S'all a man needs."

"Whatever man," Opie said dryly. He kicked the dirt under his shoe. "Just hope you wrapped your shit up; high traffic zone is all."

The men laughed, a slight weight lifted from their shoulders. It wasn't long before silence engulfed them again, waiting for the rest of the Reaper Crew to return. It was Jax who broke the silence. "Honestly," Jax started. Opie shifted from foot to foot before leaning back against his bike. There was a feeling in the air that Jax would suddenly feel the need to purge. And he was right.

Jax gave a heavy sigh. "I don't know, man. It's like; everything I ever thought about working toward in the past five years, always involved Tara. Always. And when she left, shit hit the fan, and I hit…well, everything else."

Opie nodded in understanding and cleared his throat. "I get that. If Donna were to up and run with the kids, I honestly don't know what I'd do. Probably go through pussy and beer just like you." At the lazy push from Jax, Opie felt himself sway slightly.

"I know Gemma's right," Jax admitted. "But if I start to move on, I have to face that she really isn't coming back. And that's the shittiest part."

"Change isn't something you should be afraid of, brother. Tara's not coming back; hasn't been back in the past six years, and she won't come back later. That's the shittiest part, man. Realizing that your first love is not supposed to be your only love sucks the most."

Subdued, Jax nodded solemnly. He was about to comment, but the round of bikers scrambled to them, Clay motioning for them to start their bikes and head out. Jax only shook his head, and swung a leg over the bike. Fastening "Gemma's told me to tell you that she's making a dinner tonight. Said to bring your wife and kids when you come."

Opie nodded in understanding as they watched their brothers' head back to the bikes. "Will do man."

As Opie revved the engine, Jax slapped him on the shoulder, "Thanks, man."

"No sign of 'em?" Chibs questioned tiredly. Jax and Opie shook their heads no, as the men waved their appreciation to Trammel, who leaned against his squad car, tired and frustrated. Clay grunted, only nodding in approval while he started to head down the back road leading to the safe cabin not far from there.

"Chibs, Tig, Bobby," Clay called out, "Follow me to the cabin; we're gonna create our alibi. The rest 'uh ya, back to the clubhouse!"

While a small group of brothers headed to the cabin with Clay, Jax led the others back to the dorms. And as he traveled down the rough, gravel-laden road, Jax had an epiphany. He looked over to Opie who nodded encouragingly, as if he knew what his brother was thinking.

It really was time for him to forget Tara.

It was time for him to move on; the right way.

Change was going to welcome him when he got home.

And he'd accept it.

Marie Romero grinned at the familiar nickname. "Hey Gemma; my baby ready yet?"

A gentle laugh was pulled from the glossy lips of the Queen Bee. "Yeah; finished it a while ago."

"Too bad; I wanted to give Clay a thank you for fixing up my girl for no charge." Marie smiled as Gemma stood, easily picking out her keys when she spotted the little island key chains. She pressed a kiss to the soft tanned cheek, patting the spot afterward. Marie laughed softly. "You guys should let me pay for something one of these days, you know."

Gemma shrugged with a lazy grin and crossed her arms under her ample bosom. "You've got a good head on your shoulder's sweetheart; like one of my own I tell you. You're not gonna pay for anything that don't cost much here, sweetheart. But what's this thank you, do you have planned for my Old Man?"

Bringing her full frame into the blue painted office, Marie set a basket of home made sweets and confections onto the table. "Made them this morning before I came over. You guys can share them, toss them out; whatever you want. It's my gift for the amazing free service I'm sure you guys did for me."

Brown hues stared into another pair as the older woman assessed the younger. She knew Marie was new to Charming, only moving in two blocks away from her own humble abode. She welcomed the small Filipino girl into town with her own box of delicious treats, embracing the outgoing, delicate, but hard-headed personality the girl had to offer.

She decided then and there, that Marie would be her honorary daughter, one way or another. Clay liked the girl anyhow; wouldn't do much to get him to agree to protection of her newfound friend if she needed it.

Gemma reached into the basket, plucking a wonderful scented M&M cookie-brownie. With a moan of delight, Gemma smiled. She was impressed. "I'll be sure to hide them from the rest of the boys—too good to share honey, and I wanna be greedy."

Marie gave a tinkling giggle, and waved a good-bye as she headed to the garage when she spotted her car, vaguely noticing the row of Harley's entering the lot. "I'll see you, later, Gemma! Thanks again!" She smiled gratefully to the workers, taking a break by the benches under the shade, settling herself into her car once she had it unlocked and started.

Gemma watched the girl leave the office coming to terms with what about she was going to do. Clay wouldn't mind what she thought; neither would her boys, she'll be sure of that. "Em, hold up!" she called out.

Curiously, Jax's head turned around quickly at the name and Gemma wondered why. As far as she knew, those two didn't know the other existed. Filing his reaction away for now, Gemma waved at Marie to wait before rushing slightly to the Impala. She hadn't noticed, however, when Jax's ocean gaze landed on the brunette, eyes widening in the slightest of fractions.

Gemma rested an arm against the shiny roof of the car, leaning down to grin at the driver. "I've got a dinner, sweet girl, and you should come. Be at my house tonight by six; you don't gotta bring anything. See you later, darlin'!"

She smiled with a perfectly shaped brow raised at Gemma's retreating back. In true Gemma Teller-Morrow fashion, she left no room for discussion to her invitation, hips swaying sexily back and forth as she made her way from the garage back to the office.

Gemma had a feeling that tonight was going to be a good night.